


PTCD (Post Traumatic Cat Disorder)

by For-Chan Cookie (ForChanCookie)



Series: Post Traumatic Cat Disorder [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cats, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cat Dwalin, Cat Thorin, Cats, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 13:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForChanCookie/pseuds/For-Chan%20Cookie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bofur loves his boyfriend. He does not love his boyfriend’s cat, Thorin, who is definitely trying to murder him. He needs to come up with a way to deal with the cat before it succeeds!</p>
            </blockquote>





	PTCD (Post Traumatic Cat Disorder)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a conversation I had with my friend about her and her relationship with her cat, only Thorin as a cat is more evil. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Bofur whistled to himself as he opened the door to his boyfriend’s house with an armful of groceries. He was about to call out to Bilbo when a familiar hiss drew his attention to the floor. Bilbo’s cat was a massive black and gray Maine Coon that looked like a fluffy lynx and was just as bloodthirsty as far as Bofur was concerned. 

“Well, hello Thorin,” he said. “A lovely day we’re having isn’t it?” 

Thorin growled softly and stared at him with his unnatural blue eyes. 

“Right then. I’ve brought the groceries that Bilbo requested, so it’s best that you let me pass without incident. Wouldn’t want the lovely Bilbo to starve now would you?” Bofur asked. He felt a bit dumb to be talking to a cat, but this wasn’t just any old cat. This was Thorin and Bofur was pretty sure that Thorin was smarter than the average cat. After all, Thorin had nearly successfully murdered him on several occasions and you couldn’t say that about just any old cat. 

Thorin gave him a considering stare through narrowed eyes. 

“I’ve brought your favorite cat food.”

Thorin sniffed and turned, flicking his fluffy tail at Bofur like a king waving his hand to allow a peasant to plead his case. 

Bofur sighed. At least the cat hadn’t leapt at him and torn open the grocery bag. That had happened before. He quickly slid off his shoes and headed for the kitchen, ever watchful for Thorin to dart out under his feet and trip him. He made it into the kitchen without incident and was treated to the lovely sight of his boyfriend bending over to retrieve something from the cupboard under the counter. He gave an appreciative whistle as he set the bag down on the counter. 

“A man could get used to a sight like that,” he said. “Now if only I could convince you to wear nothing but an apron when you cook.”

Bilbo emerged from the depths of the cupboard with a mandoline in hand. “I’ve told you several times that it won’t happen. For one thing, it’s unhygienic.”

“It’s sexy,” Bofur argued as he offered Bilbo a hand and helped him to his feet. 

“Unhygienic,” Bilbo repeated as he wrapped his arms around Bofur. “And dangerous. What if I spill something on myself? Or grease spits at me? Not to mention that I’d never get anything done with you pawing at me the whole time.”

Bofur bent down to kiss him. “I do that anyway, so I don’t see what the difference is.” He grinned. 

At their feet, there was a sudden grumpy warble and Bofur sighed. 

Bilbo kissed him again before pulling away to set his mandoline on the counter. “Trust me, it’s very different. Do you mind feeding Thorin darling? I’m just about to start slicing up the chips.”

“Do you want me to feed him cat food or my beating heart?” Bofur asked, even as he walked over to the shopping bag he’d brought in. 

Bilbo huffed. “The cat food, obviously. Honestly love, Thorin is not trying to kill you.”

Bofur looked down at the cat and the glowing blue eyes said otherwise. Bofur loved his boyfriend very much. He did not, however, love his boyfriend's cat. Bilbo was a very sweet and sassy thing who loved food and fun and snuggling at home. But before Bilbo had a boyfriend to snuggle with, he'd cuddled his cat, Thorin. While Thorin was sweet and affectionate with Bilbo, seeking him out for cuddles and kisses, the cat never passed up an opportunity to try to murder Bofur. Literally. 

Bofur had always thought that cat scratch fever was just an old wive's tale. Until Thorin scratched him and he'd ended up at the doctor’s office with a diagnosis for cat scratch fever. He was stuck in bed for over a week recovering from it. Bilbo, sweet thing that he was, was over every day with a new dish to feed Bofur to help him get better. It had almost been worth it, but he’d learned his lesson. He was careful not to ever reach towards Thorin again. He let Bilbo do the handling, because Thorin would never hurt Bilbo. The cat never tripped Bilbo as it wound between his legs. But Bofur had taken quite a few spills thanks to the cat's ability to be in exactly the wrong place at the wrong time. There were also the multiple times he'd woken up unable to breath because Thorin was sitting on his face trying to smother him to death. Bilbo insisted that Thorin wasn't trying to kill him, but Bofur knew better. Thorin was evil.

As if trying to kill him wasn't enough, Thorin was the worst kind of cockblock! If Thorin was in the room, Bilbo would get uncomfortable, not wanting to get frisky in front of his cat. And really, the feeling was mutual, because Bofur really didn’t want the cat’s steely blue eyes staring at him while he had his hand down Bilbo’s pants. But if they put Thorin outside of the room and closed the door, Thorin would yowl bloody murder until they opened it again. It had gotten to the point where they were almost unable to do anything at Bilbo’s house without Thorin mucking things up. 

There was always Bofur’s apartment, but Bilbo liked to cook and preferred to do it at home with all of his tools at hand. Bofur’s closet sized kitchen was not made for the kind of amazing cooking that Bilbo liked to do. Sure, he could cook up things that Bofur never dreamed were possible on his crappy coil top stove and in his tiny windowless oven, but why restrict Bilbo? So they usually stayed at Bilbo’s house so his boyfriend could cook and sex was restricted to times when Thorin was catnapping. One would think, that being a cat, Thorin would sleep a lot. But it seemed like the cat was unnaturally alert when Bofur was over, always watching him, waiting to strike. 

Bilbo said he was paranoid, crazy even, but it was the truth. Even as Bofur leaned down to pick up Thorin’s dish from the floor, the cat hissed angrily at him. Bofur put the dish on the counter and cracked open a can of the incredibly expensive gourmet organic food that Bilbo fed his cat. Sometimes, Bofur was surprised that Bilbo didn’t just cook for Thorin, but when he’d asked, Bilbo had admitted that he was afraid he’d overfeed Thorin and the cat end up fat, just like him. That had gotten Bilbo a great lecture on how he was not fat, just cuddly and that Bofur loved his love handles thank you very much. Besides, Bilbo had nothing on his own brother Bombur, who was a very large man. 

Bofur mashed down the catfood with a fork just as Bilbo had taught him to do. Cats had some very strange standards for food and the food had to be mashed up just so, or else. Bilbo said that Thorin wouldn’t eat dry food at all. He would push it all out of the dish and onto the floor and then ignore it. Bofur shook his head, he could never own a cat of his own. He only just tolerated Bilbo’s cat because he loved Bilbo so much. “Here you go Thorin. Your royal meal.” He walked over and put the plate down next to the water dish. Thorin walked over, sniffed the food, then stuck his nose in the air and walked off. Bofur shook his head again. Cats.

* * *

Just as Bofur had feared, there had been no sex last night. There had been a lovely meal of fish and chips and then a cozy night in front of the television watching a movie together. They’d made out a bit before agreeing to move things to the bedroom. Bofur had closed the bedroom door, but it seemed that Thorin had been lying in wait in the bedroom. Bilbo was already on the bed when Thorin darted out from underneath it and tripped Bofur. He’d fallen straight into the nightstand and been knocked out. When he woke up, Bilbo was angrily scolding his cat as he held a pack of frozen peas to Bofur’s head. 

“Told you he was trying to kill me,” he rasped. 

Bilbo turned and looked like he was about to protest when Thorin yowled. Bilbo had just sighed and helped him off the floor and into the bed. He had a giant knot on his forehead and Bilbo had kept him up for hours worrying about a concussion. Their lovely night had been ruined by the damned cat and Bofur knew he’d have to do something about it. He just wasn’t sure what. 

Once he’d gotten up and had breakfast with Bilbo and assured him that he was fine, “Really I’ll be ok”, he’d headed off to work. Work these days was a workshop that he shared with his cousin, Bifur. He used to work for a local mining company, doing geological surveying, but toys were where is passion really was. When he was young, his parents had died and his older cousin, Bifur, had taken Bombur and himself in. Bifur had taught him how to carve. His cousin made the most wonderful toys, from wood, from metal, from anything handy, but to support the family, he was a miner. Bofur had just graduated college and been hired by the same company that Bifur worked for when there was a cave in in the mines. He and Bombur had been beside themselves when they received the call that something had happened in the mines. 

Bifur had been one of the lucky ones. While he had been terribly injured, he had come out alive. Bifur had been struck in the head by a falling rock. He had been in a coma for months and they feared the worst considering the damage to his skull and brain, but Bifur finally woke up. Everything that came out of his mouth was unintelligible nonsense, but he could still understand words and eventually, he learned sign language as a way to communicate. It was frustrating for him. Clearly, the words were there, but the damage to his brain made the signals come out garbled. Bifur had his good days and his bad days, but he and Bombur did their best to make more good days than bad. 

Bofur had taken on the role of caretaker after that, providing for the family as well as he could. Bifur had turned to his true love, making toys, to help him cope. Soon, their small house had filled with toys. At first, they’d try to give them away, but eventually, Bofur decided that maybe they could try to sell them. He set up a shop online and it took off overnight. One day, they were selling maybe one piece a week, and the next thing they knew, they’d been featured on some popular blog and demand went through the roof. There was enough of a demand that Bofur decided to quit his job with the mining company to make toys as well. They’d bought a little workshop and had been happily creating together ever since. 

It was raining by the time he got to the shop. Bilbo had made him take an umbrella, but it was raining so hard that his boots and jeans were quite soggy by the time he got into the door. He set the wet umbrella beside the door along with his boots and looked around. 

“Bifur?” he called and frowned when there was no answer. “Bifur?” Again there was silence. It wasn’t unusual for Bifur to wander off for a bit, but it was raining and his cousin probably wouldn’t remember to bring an umbrella. As if thinking about him had summoned him, the door opened behind him and Bifur rushed in, soaking wet. “Bifur. Where have you been?” He asked, moving to take the wet paper bag that Bifur was holding. 

Bifur shook off his coat and set it on the coat rack before signing “store.”

“The store? I could have picked up whatever you needed,” Bofur said.

Bifur shrugged and gestured for Bofur to follow him. In the back room, there was a large box set in front of the radiator.

Bofur sighed. “What did you bring home this time? I hope it’s not a box of kittens. Bilbo’s evil cat tripped me last night and I busted my head on the nightstand. I’m done with cats for a while.”

Bifur grunted and shook his head. “Not kittens. Cat,” he signed as he pulled out a can of cat food and opened it up. 

Bofur moved towards the box as his cousin opened the top flap. A deep, indignant meow issued forth from the box, causing Bofur to flinch. He must have Post Traumatic Cat Disorder. Next thing you knew, he’d be running away from fluffy kittens. Still, no blood thirsty cats leapt out and scratched Bifur as he set the can of food inside the box, so Bofur felt brave enough to edge forward and peer into the box. 

He was shocked to see a cat that was even bigger than Thorin, despite being soaking wet. And he knew from experience that cats shrunk a bit when you wet them. He’d seen Thorin once or twice after Bilbo gave him a bath. He might have taken pictures for blackmail….or laughs. One really can’t blackmail a cat. Regardless, even soaking wet, the cat in the box was rather large. Bofur couldn’t really tell what color he was aside from brown as the dampness of the fur hid its colors. He was sure that this cat was the same breed as Thorin. It had the same fluffy neck beard of fur along with its size. But unlike Thorin, it was completely uninterested in murder and much more interested in cleaning out the can of food that Bifur had provided. 

“What made you pick him up? Usually you’re more into kitten rescues,” Bofur commented. 

Bifur grunted. “Think he was in a fight with a dog. He’s chewed up. He was sitting on the doorstep all pitiful and wet, so I brought him inside.”

Bofur nodded as he looked at the cat, finally noticing the chewed up ear and the scratches on its head. 

“It didn’t try to kill you?”

Bifur laughed and shook his head. “Not all cats are out to kill you,” he signed. 

“Ha! That means that you admit that some are out to kill me!” Bofur cried. “Look what Thorin did!” He moved forward to show Bifur his lump. 

Bifur clucked over it and made Bofur sit down while he got him an ice pack and some aspirin. “You should go see Oin,” he signed. 

“I don’t think it’s bad enough to bother Oin. I’ll just need lots of painkillers till it goes down. What are you going to do with the cat?” He asked, changing the subject. 

Bifur shrugged. “Can’t take him home. Too many dogs.” Bifur had also found himself a boyfriend. After years of taking care of his cousins and then struggling with his injuries, he’d finally found someone he could settle down with. Beorn was a mountain of a man that maintained a small farm and apiary outside of town. He was always bringing around jars of honey to give to Bilbo, who he had dubbed “Little Bunny” and became good friends with, despite the awful nickname. 

Bofur nodded. “Suppose we can take him down to old Radagast’s clinic to get him sorted, maybe he knows a good shelter for him.”

Bifur considered it as he looked down at the huge cat in the box. It had finished up the meal and was quietly grooming itself while keeping an eye on them over the rim of the box. “Maybe you should give it to Bilbo. Maybe Thorin needs a friend and he’ll stop trying to murder you.”

Bofur blinked. “Do you think that will work?”

Bifur shrugged. “At worst, they kill each other and Thorin is out of your hair for good.” He paused and frowned. “And you’re also out a boyfriend.”

Bofur rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, this one doesn’t seem as evil as Thorin. I wonder if he’s even good with other cats.”

Bifur shrugged again. “You can find out later when you bring him to the clinic. I’m going to dry off and get back to work.”

“Wait! Don’t leave me alone with him. He might be lulling us into a false sense of security and he’ll murder me as soon as you leave us alone!” Bofur said, following Bifur out.

His cousin just chuckled and muttered something indecipherable before he slipped into the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind himself.

* * *

The cat passed all the tests that old Radagast could throw at him, including the hedgehog test, where he did not try to eat the vet’s pet hedgehog, Sebastian. There were plenty of other animals around to test the cat’s temperament with. The cat seemed perfectly content to live and let live, which was a welcome change compared to Thorin, who murdered birds and left them in Bofur’s shoes. Bilbo said it was a sign of affection, but Thorin didn’t murder anything for Bilbo, probably knowing that Bilbo would pass out at the sight of a beheaded field mouse.

After receiving all his shots with a very put upon look, he submitted to the careful inspection and cleaning of his chewed up ear and some other scratches on his face. Bofur was given a tube of ointment and sent on his way. He brought the cat back to his apartment where he’d hastily set up a litter box in the bathroom. One that the cat, thankfully, knew how to use. “I suppose you’ll need a name won’t you?” 

The cat ignored him in favor of sunning himself in the window. Now that he was dry, Bofur could admire his brown fur and the black markings on his head that looked almost like tattoos. He still wasn’t brave enough to go over to pet the cat, but the cat was very receptive to food and had yet to nip Bofur when he offered cat treats. Maybe he could get over his Post Traumatic Cat Disorder yet. 

Bofur sat down at his computer and started googling a bit. He knew that Bilbo had named Thorin after some obscure bit of mythology he’d dug up. It seemed only fitting that Thorin’s intended companion should have a similar name. After rejecting a few names like Loki and Balder, Bofur looked at the cat. “Dwalin?” He called. 

The cat’s ears perked up and it glanced back at him. 

“Dwalin? Do you like that name?” he asked. 

The cat seemed to consider before meowing at him, then setting its head down into its sunbeam. 

Bofur chuckled. “Guess that’s the best answer I’ll get out of a cat. Dwalin it is then.” He sat back and stared at the cat. All of this had been the easy part. The real question was, how was he going to convince Bilbo that he needed another cat? And for that matter, what if Thorin didn’t want a friend? He might decide to scratch Dwalin up some more. There was no guarantee that this would work, but he had to try, before Thorin succeeded in murdering him!

* * *

Ultimately, Bofur decided that the best thing to do was to take Dwalin to Bilbo’s house. In person, it would be harder for Bilbo to turn the cat away. Bofur was careful letting himself into Bilbo’s house, mostly because he had an armful of cat. It seemed in the few days that Dwalin had been with him, the cat had gained a lot of weight just from regular feedings. Unlike Thorin, Dwalin wasn’t picky about what he ate and gladly gobbled all the kibble that Bofur would pour into his bowl. 

“This would be a lot easier if you stopped trying to nose your way into my pocket,” Bofur complained as Dwalin nearly managed to get his head into said pocket, looking for the cat treats that were in there. 

“Darling? Who are you talking to?” Bilbo’s head appeared at the end of the hall and his eyebrows went up. “What’s this?” He asked, padding down the hall barefoot with Thorin on his heels. 

Thorin growled upon seeing Bofur. The sound made Dwalin pull his head back and twist it around to look at what made it. 

Bofur coughed, feeling bashful now that it came time to execute his plan. What if Bilbo really didn’t want another cat? What if he tossed him and the cat out for being an idiot? “This is Dwalin. Bifur found him all beat up outside our shop in the rain. I’ve been taking care of him for a few days, but you know I’m not good with cats. Thought maybe, well…” he trailed off nervously. 

“Oh, the poor thing,” Bilbo said, approaching. He held his hand out carefully so that Dwalin could sniff at him. Dwalin’s ears flicked in interest at the smell and he butted his head against Bilbo’s hand. 

Bofur was aware of Thorin anxiously circling Bilbo’s feet. He hoped the evil thing wasn’t already planning on ways to rip both him and Dwalin to shreds. 

“You should set him down. Thorin would like to meet him,” Bilbo said. 

Bofur grimaced. “Are you sure?” He asked, hugging Dwalin a little closer to him. The cat looked up at him curiously. “What if Thorin doesn’t like him? Remember how he used to react to that stray ginger cat Smaug? I wouldn’t be surprised if Thorin buried that cat’s body in your rose garden.”

Bilbo gave him one of those looks that said he thought Bofur was being crazy. “I doubt it. Besides, Thorin is a very well behaved cat. I’m sure that he and Dwalin will become friends.”

Bofur bit his lip. “Ok.” He looked at the cat in his arms. This is what he’d brought him over for, but now he was having his doubts. Dwalin decided that enough was enough and took matters into his own paws by pushing against Bofur’s chest and jumping out of his arms. His descent to the floor wasn’t the most graceful and he landed half on top of Thorin, who yowled and scuttled back in fright with his tail up. 

Dwalin picked himself up with as much dignity as he could. He looked at Thorin, his tail twitching a bit, but not poofing out. Thorin’s tail began to twitch in curiosity and that’s when Dwalin moved forward, bumping his head against Thorin’s. 

Bilbo squeaked and put a hand to his mouth. “Aw, they’re making friends.”

Bofur wasn’t sure. Any minute now, Thorin could claw Dwalin’s eyes out. But, no, oddly enough, Thorin blinked at Dwalin, then bumped his nose against the other cat’s and began to purr. 

“Well, I’ll be damned. They are.”

Then Dwalin’s big old rumbley purr started and the two cats began to rub up against one another. Soon, Thorin had flopped over on his side, showing Dwalin his belly. Dwalin began to knead Thorin with his paws as they both purred. 

“I think maybe we should give them a little time to get to know each other,” Bilbo said, taking Bofur’s arm and pulling him out into the living room where he tugged him down into a kiss. “Thank you.”

Bofur pulled away, slightly dazed. “For what?”

“For getting Thorin a friend. He gets lonely when you’re around and he doesn’t get all of my attention. I’d been thinking about getting him a playmate, but you’ve gone and solved that. Even gave him a complimentary name. Thorin and Dwalin.” Bilbo giggled. 

“Well, I was hoping that you’d take the big guy in. He’s nice for a cat. He hasn’t even tried to kill me.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Oh stop,” he said, swatting at Bofur’s arm. 

“It’s true! He hasn’t! Maybe he’ll be a good influence on Thorin. Mellow him out a bit.”

“Perhaps,” Bilbo said as he pushed Bofur down onto the couch and slid into his lap. 

Bofur was actually quite pleased. He managed to get his hand into Bilbo’s pants without his boyfriend protesting that Thorin was watching. Of course, that was when the yowl startled them and he nearly dumped Bilbo off of his lap. They were both up in seconds, running for the hall where they’d left the two cats. Bofur froze at the sight. Dwalin had mounted Thorin and was nipping at the back of his neck as he thrust against him. Thorin was just sitting there, yowling. They both paused as the humans interrupted. Thorin looked up and glared at Bofur as if to say “Do you mind?”

“Now you know what it’s like to get cockblocked you great murderous furball,” Bofur said. 

“Bofur!” Bilbo slapped Bofur’s arm again, drawing his attention away from the cats. 

“It’s true!” Bofur insisted. “Even you have to admit that Thorin is a cockblock.”

Bilbo sighed. “Well, yes, maybe a little.”

Bofur grinned triumphantly. 

“Oh stop,” Bilbo said, shaking his head. “You’re wasting time while Thorin is otherwise occupied.”

Bofur blinked. “You mean we can…now?”

Bilbo just laughed and sprinted for the bedroom with Bofur hot on his heels.They closed the door and blessedly weren’t interrupted by Thorin once. 

And they all lived happily ever after. 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine they look a little something like this  
> 


End file.
